The Pain of Moving On
by tacomonster97
Summary: {Oneshot} Happiness was the one word he could never truly understand. He couldn't remember a time when he felt real happiness; unless you count the fleeting moments he spent with her. But sorrow does not discriminate, and the never-ending aching in his heart is the only thing he has left to remind him that she was real.


A/N: This was made at around three in the morning... nothing good ever happens at three in the morning with me. Anyway, I thought up this quick little angsty oneshot. Hope you all enjoy.

WARNING: THIS FANFIC CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE KAGEROU PROJECT SERIES AS WELL AS MENTIONS OF SUICIDE. PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION.

The all too familiar walls of the cramped room had remained the same. The curtains had been drawn, enveloping everything in darkness. The door had been locked, only opening when a meal was being served. Even the dull flickering of the computer had vanished once it had gone into automatic sleep.

The knocks had long since vanished as his sister's routine fell out of pattern and eventually stopped all together. He would hear her footsteps stop at his door on occasion before she continued on her way, the already soft sound fading out completely in a matter of seconds.

Everyone was moving on; they were leaving their pasts behind and continuing toward a brighter future.

He, however was not. He could not; he absolutely _would not_ allow himself to move on.

Moving on meant forgetting. It meant forgetting places, forgetting memories from your childhood and even forgetting some things that school had made sure to drill into your head over and over and over...

It meant forgetting dreams, forgetting lyrics to songs that at one time were all you could think about, and it meant forgetting people.

Forgetting strangers you had passed by. Forgetting acquaintances that you had small conversations with from time to time. Above all, it meant forgetting _the people who once held a place in your heart_.

Once upon a time, there was a girl. A girl who had forced her way into the life of a lonely boy. But that girl was no longer here.

Moving forward meant forgetting _her_. The memories he had of _her_ , along with the unbelievable _agony_ , was all he had left. It was the only thing that reminded him that _she_ did in fact exist once.

 _Her_ long, brown hair that swayed gently in the wind.

 _Oh, how he yearned to run his hands through those soft locks._

 _Her_ smile, so bright and without any trace of worry.

 _He found himself stunned into stupid silence when he gazed upon such a beautiful sight_.

By now, he was sure that he was the only one that could recall such things. After all, it had been _two years since_ she _died_.

Two years ago _she_ had made that fateful decision. Two years later he still couldn't figure out _why_.

 _Why did_ she _kill herself?_

Part of him wanted the reason to stay hidden—as if blissful ignorance was the only way to keep the memory of _her_ pure. Another part of him was being gnawed away at; he often heard his own voice blaming himself for what had happened.

If only he had paid more attention.

If only he hadn't been so selfish, putting his problems of self-loathing before whatever _she_ had been going through.

His eyes began to feel heavy as he remained motionless on his bed, dull black orbs having been glued on the ceiling for minutes—maybe even _hours_ —without his knowledge.

He put up little resistance. His dreams were the only way he could see _her_ again. The only way he could relish that precious smile again. Sometimes, if the world was in a gracious mood, he could even catch the faintness of _her_ pleasant fragrance that had lingered over him for but a moment when _she_ had offered _her_ scarf in a time of comfort.

His dreams were the only way he could relive those days he spent with _her_. Those short, but utterly _priceless_ days. He cherished his dreams for as long as time would allow him, but morning came much too quickly.

Today, there was no obnoxious voice to pull him out of his daze—he had gotten rid of that person days ago; only the ticking of the clock, whose sound seemed so loud as of late. Through the closed curtain, a small ray of sunshine shone through and it did not take him long to realize that had been the cause of his unwanted awakening. The twinge of guilt and sorrow hit him once more as he was once again forced to face the truth of reality.

She _was gone_.

She _would not return_.

 _Ever. Again._

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, the empty place in his rotten heart growing with each passing second.

 _He wanted to be with_ her.

 _He wanted to see_ her _again_.

...

And then, his eyes landed on a shiny pair of sharp scissors.


End file.
